


You again?

by prouvairecateur



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hospital, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, grantaire is the doctor and enjolras is his rather unwilling patient, i say enjolras/grantaire but it isn't romantic or anything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-08
Updated: 2013-07-08
Packaged: 2017-12-18 03:05:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/874924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prouvairecateur/pseuds/prouvairecateur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras gets hurt in yet another protest, and Grantaire has to treat his injuries.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You again?

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: This may or may not make people a bit squeamish. There is mention of injuries and the treatments for them. If this bothers you, you may not want to read it. It isn’t that bad, but just in case.

Grantaire was sitting in the break room, a cup of coffee in his hand. He had just gotten off of a very long morning shift in the hospital and was ready to call it a day. He set his head down on the table, at the exact moment someone slapped down a file. Grantaire jerked his head up to see Joly staring down at him. 

“He’s all yours,” Joly mumbled, pulling the seat out next to Grantaire and falling into it. Grantaire shook his head, taking a small bottle from his pocket and unscrewing it, about to pour the contents into his coffee. Before he could, Joly snapped out and caught his hand. “That better be creamer.” He plucked the bottle from Grantaire’s hand and took a sniff. He winced and screwed the cap back on, pocketing it himself to the other man’s dismay. “You know what I said about drinking on the job. I’m not going to cover for your sorry ass next time.” He smiled brightly. “Your favorite patient is back.”

Grantaire frowned, sliding the file towards him. He took one glance at the information inside and threw it at Joly. “I’m in no mood to deal with him right now. Besides, I’m on break.” 

Joly just laughed. “I am sure he is looking forward to seeing your bright and cheery face almost as much as you are looking forward to hearing what wonderful things he has to say to you.” Joly leaned over to nudge Grantaire. “Come on, everyone knows you secretly have the hots for the guy.”

Grantaire just frowned at his friend and colleague for a moment, before pulling the file from Joly’s hands and marching out of the room. 

He read through the chart several times. It seemed the young Enjolras had found himself smack dab in the middle of another protest-gone-wrong. The nurse who had examined him noticed signs of bruising near his right eye, and there was a deep gash on the back of his neck. He was complaining of pain near his ribcage, and he was walking with a slight limp, favoring his left leg. Grantaire let out a huff of breath and rubbed his face. This was worse than it had ever been. 

He made his way to a nearby station and stalked up on everything he would need- a suture to stitch the back of his head up, an ice pack for the bruised eye, and some wrappings to bind his ribcage. 

Making his way to the door, he could hear the man pacing inside the room. All Grantaire could think was that this guy was a piece of work- a piece of work with a fine ass. He pushed into the room and was immediately met with a glare that he knew would not let up for the entirety of his visit. 

“You again?” Enjolras asked indignantly. 

Grantaire gave a toothy grin “I could say the same thing.” The nurse was right; Enjolras was sporting a particularly nasty shiner. Without any warning, Grantaire took the ice pack and pressed against the man’s face, causing him to let out a loud hiss. “Hold that there.” Enjolras surprisingly did as he was told, and Grantaire set a chair in the middle of the room. “Sit.” Again, Enjolras obeyed. Grantaire gave a look as if to say ‘well alright’ and washed his hands, putting on a pair of rubber gloves when he was finished. He picked up the tray with the supplies needed to stitch the man’s neck up and carried it over with him until he was behind the seated patient. He applied some antibiotics to the cut and pulled a syringe from a plastic package. “This may hurt a bit,” he warned, as he prepared the injection to numb Enjolras’ skin. 

“What do you- ow!”

Grantaire just smirked and set the syringe back on the tray. “Told you.” He returned to where he had previously been standing, in front of Enjolras, and just muttered, “Take your shirt off.”

“Excuse me?” the man cried, looking as though Grantaire had just told him to kill a man. 

“Were you or were you not complaining about pain near your ribs?” Enjolras stared at the doctor for a few moments before slowly peeling his shirt over his head. Grantaire clicked his tongue as he observed the blackening skin of the man’s torso. “Just as I suspected. You probably just bruised a few ribs, maybe broke a couple blood vessels. Nothing too serious.”

Enjolras gave him another stern look. “How can you be sure nothing’s broken? You haven’t even taken any x-rays. I will have you know that the man kicked me pretty hard.”

“Well, congratulations then. Do you want me to alert everyone else in the hospital? Tell them you are such a strong man for taking such a rough beating?” By now, Enjolras was fuming. “Trust me, if your ribs were broken, you wouldn’t be able to breathe properly. From your fussing and whining, I can conclude that you can breathe perfectly fine. Now, are you going to just listen to the person with the PhD, or are you going to diagnose yourself some more?”

Enjolras was about to retort when Grantaire noticed he was no longer holding the ice pack to his eye. He quickly pulled the man’s hand back up, and pushed it onto his face a little too hard. The man shouted in pain and gave the doctor a searing look. “Just get this over with, so I can leave.”

Grantaire just rolled his eyes. He tossed a brace to Enjolras. “Put this around the part of your ribcage that hurts the most. It will make everything heal faster, just so long as you don’t do anything stupid to hurt yourself anymore.” Again Enjolras opened his mouth to make a comment, but he stopped when he could feel Grantaire press a firm hand against the back of his neck. “Did that hurt?”

Enjolras gave a start. “No. What did you do?” he asked frantically, turning around. He regretted the movement instantly, when he saw the man lift a needle. “Did you stab me with that or something?” 

“Not yet, now turn around.” When Enjolras wouldn’t comply, Grantaire leaned forward, an inch away from the blond’s face. “Fine, if the numbing wears off before I finish, it will be your fault, not mine.” 

Enjolras wrinkled his nose. “You smell of alcohol.” They stared at each other carefully. “Are you sure you aren’t too drunk to treat me.”

Grantaire wanted so much to grab the man by his hair, to show him how he wanted to treat him, but he had to remain professional. “The numbing won’t last very long.”

With a sneer, Enjolras turned back around, slumping in his seat. Grantaire began to stitch the skin back together. “So what’s bothering your leg? It’s the right one, no?” Enjolras grumbled something under his breath. “Sorry I didn’t hear that? Did the injection numb your tongue as well?”

“I said my leg is fine,” he remarked through clenched teeth. “I just fell on it pretty hard. It doesn’t hurt too much.”

“Just take it easy then.” Grantaire could practically hear Enjolras roll his eyes. He did not say anything else as he finished the procedure. When everything was ready to go, he filled out a perscription for some pain medication. “This is for when you start feeling the pain on your neck again. Come back in a week to get the stitches out.” 

Enjolras took the piece of paper and stuffed it into his back pocket. He took the brace from where he had set it on the seat when he stood up. Grantaire watched him struggle for a second, before he helped the man secure the material around his body. “I trust your friend, Combeferre, will be able to help you with that?” Enjolras just nodded, eyes closed from what was probably the numbness wearing off on his neck. “Get that medicine soon. It will help.” 

The impatient patient shrugged his shirt on and headed to the door. “Whatever.”

“See you in a week. Don’t bring me anymore injuries,” Grantaire attempted to joke. The other man made no sign of hearing him as he disappeared from sight. Grantaire sank into the chair that Enjolras had previously occupied, covering his face with his hands. He heard footsteps making their way into the room, and he turned around to find Joly staring at him, almost the exact same way he was when he brought Grantaire the blond man’s records. 

“That bad, huh? Did he attempt to start another argument about your methods of treatment?” Grantaire held up several fingers to indicate the amount of times Enjolras had questioned his abilities. Joly let out a whistle and tapped his friend on the back. “Let us hope he doesn’t bring you anymore injuries, hm?”

Grantaire could hear Joly leaving, and whispered, low enough so only he could hear, “Let’s hope he does.”


End file.
